"Well," said he, "she 'ain't been used to living the way you have,
though you have had advantages that none of your folks ever had; but
if she likes you, that's all there is to it, I s'pose."

The old man sighed wearily. He sat in his arm-chair at the kitchen
fireplace; his wife had gone in to one of the neighbors, and the two
were alone.

"Of course," said Thomas, simply, "if Evelina Adams shouldn't live,
the chances are that I shouldn't have to bring her here. She wouldn't
have to give up anything on my account--you know that, father."

Then the young man started, for his father turned suddenly on him
with a pale, wrathful face. "You ain't countin' on that!" he shouted.
"You ain't countin' on that--a son of mine countin' on anything like
that!"

Thomas colored. "Why, father," he stammered, "you don't think--you
know, it's all for _her_--and they say she can't live anyway. I had
never thought of such a thing before. I was wondering how I could
make it comfortable for Evelina here."

But his father did not seem to listen. "Countin' on that!" he
repeated. "Countin' on a poor old soul, that 'ain't ever had anything
to set her heart on but a few posies, dyin' to make room for other
folks to have what she's been cheated out on. Countin' on that!" The
old man's voice broke into a hoarse sob; he got up, and went
hurriedly out of the room.

"Why, father!" his son called after him, in alarm. He got up to